


All That's Left Is The Ghost Of You

by bookish_changeling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: B&B In Vermont (Supernatural), Baby Jack Kline, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Human Jack Kline, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Parent Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Reunions, Season/Series 12, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookish_changeling/pseuds/bookish_changeling
Summary: “Bring him back,” Dean choked, directing his voice to the sky. “You were wrong, what I need is Cas. It’s always been him. Please, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I need-”His voice gave out, and his fingers curled involuntarily into the still warm fabric of Cas’ shirt.“Come back.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Approaching the cabin warily, the only light that could be seen was a faint glow in the upstairs window.

Dean dodged a broken step without any second thought, resting a hand on the doorknob before glancing back at Sam and Mary.

Greeted with two quick nods, he tested it.

To his surprise, the door was unlocked, and opened without a sound..

They entered in a group, careful not to leave each other unguarded for whatever was waiting.

A dim light broke through the darkness, illuminating a familiar figure, outlined against the stairwell. “Dean?”

No matter the circumstances, hearing his best friend’s voice sent a current of relief through him, and he breathed a slight sigh of relief.

“Cas, is this place warded?” Sam said urgently.

Cas nodded, bewildered but wary. “Yes, heavily.”

“Heavy enough to stop Lucifer?” Dean stared at a point just over his shoulder, pushing down the urge to yell at him.

“Lucifer?” Eyes widening, Cas looked sharply to the other two.

“He could be right behind us,” Mary said in explanation. 

Alright, that wasn’t much of an explanation.

“I don't…” Cas shook his head quickly, abandoning what he’d been about to say. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass,” Dean said sharply.

“You and Kelly just taking off was a stupid move. But there's no way we're letting Lucifer get his hands on that kid.” Sam stepped forward, face set in determination. “It ain't happening.”

“Look, Sam's right, okay? We'll work through our crap.” Dean met Cas’ eyes briefly, glancing away again to gesture at the door. “We always do. But right now, we are here to get you, get Kelly, and get gone.”

Cas shook his head again. “She can't be moved. She's-”

At that moment, they all became aware of the situation from a pained cry emanating from the upstairs.

“I'll check on her,” Mary brushed past them, hurrying up the stairs.

“How much time do we have?”

Sam glanced around tiredly. “We don't know.”

“Hey, if he shows, can you flame on again?” Dean gestured absentmindedly at the door. “Can you torch Lucifer like you did Dagon?”

Cas faltered for a moment, the first time he hadn’t seemed assured. “That wasn't me. That was the child. And in case you haven't noticed, he's a little busy.”

With no idea of what he’d been planning to do, Dean went to take a step forward, maybe to comfort Cas, maybe to-

Something.

Instead his knee nearly gave out, and he ducked down to press a hand over it, hissing in a sharp breath at the pain. “Son of a bitch.”

Something in Cas’ eyes softened, and he stepped forward, his shoes all Dean could see in the corner of his vision.

Gently taking his arm, Cas steadied him before letting go.

Instantly Dean missed the warmth.

 _Stop that,_ he scolded himself. _Now isn’t the time._

“Here, Dean.” Cas pressed two fingers to his forehead, and Dean went slightly cross-eyed trying to keep them in his vision.

He forgot about that as a warm rush of Cas’ Grace spread through his entire body, warming and easing muscles he hadn’t realised were tense.

Testing his knee, he found it to be in near perfect condition.

As perfect as it ever was, which strictly speaking, was never the best anyway.

Even the graze on his face was gone, and he gave a grateful smile to the angel. “Thanks. And uh… For future reference, leave the door hinges un-oiled. Gives you an early warning system.”

Cas tilted his head, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Alright.”

“All right,” Sam headed down the short hallway towards the back door. “We should double-check the warding.”

A flash of alarm showed in Cas’ eyes, and he hurried to catch up, with Dean right behind them. “Wait, Sam-”

“Listen, if we, uh…” Sam trailed off, slowing down just outside the door. “Cas?” He said slowly. “What is that?”

Cas sighed, looking as if he’d hoped very much not to get into this. “It's a tear in space and time.”

“Uh, and that means?” Dean stepped forward, forcing Cas to meet his eyes. “What’s goin’ on here Cas?”

“It's-” he hesitated briefly. “A doorway to another world.”

“Anoth–” Dean stepped closer to the glowing slash, staring at it in mingled wonder and distrust. “What, like Narnia?”

“No. No, through there it's Earth, but...but different.” Cas joined him, staring into the light. “It's a– it's an alternate reality.”

“So it's a Bizarro world? Or – or like the place we got zapped to where we were, uh, uh, actors on a TV show.” Sam stared at the tear, already looking fascinated.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean glanced at Cas, who was staring at them in confusion. “The supernatural wasn't real.”

He pointed at Sam. “And you were Polish.”

Sam ducked his head, looking as if he very much wanted to forget that experience. “R-right.”

He frowned, looking back to Cas. “Wait, Cas, how did this get here?”

“Well, the child being born-” Cas sighed heavily. “There’s power fluctuations, in the air. The child- Jack- cannot control it any more than we can, but it seems to be puncturing the fabric of our universe.”

Dean dropped his gaze to the sand between his boots. “Awesome.”

“Yeah.” Sam glanced between them and the rift. “And what… exactly is on the other side?”

Cas looked away. “You don't wanna know.”

“Probably.” Dean stepped into his eyesight. “But we need to. What’s in there?”

\---

Stepping back through the portal, Dean and Sam were out first.

Right behind them, Cas stepped through, graceful as anything. His gaze went immediately to Dean. “Are you all right?”

“No, Cas. Pretty far from all right. I mean, we've got Lucifer on this side,” he pointed towards the house, then the portal. “We've got Mad Max World on that side. I mean, yeah, we've been down before, but this? I-I mean, I don't even know where to start.”

His eyes were drawn by a flash of movement, and he groaned as Crowley stepped forward. “Oh, come _on."_

“Hello, boys.” The demon smiled faux-pleasantly. “Again.”

“Wait a second, how the hell did you –”

Crowley held up his bloody, bandaged hand. “I improvised. Lucky I did. Turns out I'm the answer to all your problems.”

  
  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dean loaded one of the guns, eyes tracking Cas as he disappeared up the stairs.

Finishing the gun, he held it over his shoulder, letting Sam take it.

“You ready?”

“Nope.” Sam gave a half-hearted shrug. “When has that ever stopped us?”

“Yeah.” Casting another glance towards the stairs, he lowered his voice. “You know, Cas has faith in this kid.”

Sam nodded, staying silent.

“I hope he's right.” Shaking his head, Dean met Sam’s eyes. “But me? I have faith in us. You, me, Mom, Cas.”

After a beat of silence, he rolled his eyes. “And Crowley. Sometimes,” he added.

Sam nodded, trying for a smile.

It looked painfully fake.

“This is gonna work.” Dean smiled reassuringly, putting on the facade easily. “It has to.”

\---

They stepped down from the porch in a line, presenting a united front to the enemy.

Lucifer walked closer, easy as anything. “Well... this is a fun surprise. I gotta hand it to you guys. You never give up, even when you should. Even when it would be so… stupid not to.”

Cas tensed, and Dean brushed the back of his hand over his fingers.

_Don’t do anything stupid._

He felt the tension ebb slightly, and Cas tapped one finger against his knuckle.

 _Noted,_ the gesture seemed to say.

“Look, whatever you're planning on doing, Chuck...God will stop you, just like he did last time.” Sam set his jaw in a hard line.

Lucifer shivered melodramatically. “You're _right_. What should I do? Oh, God! Don't strike me dead!” The playfulness gave way to something darker. “Come on, Sam. You sound like a virgin in Jesus camp.” He pitched his voice higher.. "We can't. God is watching… No.” Devoid of any lightheartedness now, he watched them with flickering eyes. “Chuck “walked.” He's gone.”

The air quotes looked better when Cas was doing them, Dean decided absently.

“So you're just gonna smash his toys?” Dean kept his senses alert, tracking and noting every movement around him.

“Exactly. 'Cause every time I look at this sad trash fire of a world, you know what I keep thinking?” Lucifer smiled sharply. “I could do so much better.”

“So Apocalypse, take two. That's your plan?” Dean nodded slowly. “Well color me unimpressed.”

Lucifer spread his hands. “When in doubt, go with the classics. That's what I always say.”

A beat of silence, and Lucifer’s smile turned deadly. “Well, boys, enough with the foreplay. Let's do this.”

Dean chanced a look at Sam, who smiled briefly in reassurance, and then to Cas. “See you on the other side.”

Cas darted forward, lashing out with the angel blade.

Lucifer batted him aside, and Cas landed heavily on his arm.

He didn’t get up.

“Well, that worked,” Lucifer raised his eyebrows sardonically. 

Dean shot a glance to where Cas lay, immobile, and then to Sam.

As one they turned, running around the corner of the house.

“Mature. Real mature!” Lucifer rounded the first corner. “I really want to enjoy this, savor just ripping you apart, gettin’ all up in there, and gettin’ all gooey.”

His voice got louder, following them as they rushed to the shining rip in the air.

“But, y’know,” Lucifer continued. “Little slugger’s almost here, and, uh… Well, I’m on the clock.”

He stopped at the sight of the golden slash.

Dean gave a cocky smile, already reaching for the portal. “Come and get us, you son of a bitch.”

His words were cut off by the flash of bright light, and they landed back in the apocalypse world he already hated so much.

The portal flashed again, and they turned to see Lucifer step through, already smiling.

“You wanted the Apocalypse?” Sam smiled tightly. “You’ve got it.”

“Sammy. Hey.” Lucifer tipped his head, eyes going blank. “Where’s your big bro?”

“Right here.” Dean broke into the conversation- if it could be called that.

His hands tightened reflexively on the gun he was holding.

_Angel killing bullets. Gotta remember to thank them sometime._

“Ooh. Sweet toy.” Lucifer smiled mockingly.

“Yeah, I got it off an old–” Dean hesitated. “New pal of mine. See, we have this bet, see if it works against an archangel. So... say hello to my little friend.”

His finger tightened on the trigger, and he watched Sam disappear behind a slope.

The bullets slammed into Lucifer’s chest, the jacket being torn to shreds.

Still, the bullets didn’t seem to be doing anything but mildly inconveniencing the archangel, or the devil, or whatever the hell you wanted to call him.

Eventually, what felt like both no time at all, and also an eternity later, the gun clicked, and the thudding of bullets was gone.

Lucifer smiled.

Not a pretty sight when the Devil smiles.

He grabbed the gun, slamming it into Dean’s face.

The moments after that were a blur of hits, and then, after finding himself on the ground, kicks too.

Until Lucifer was gone, suddenly, and Dean rolled over painfully to find Crowley smiling thinly at the devil. “Surprise.”

“Crowley!” Lucifer threw his hands out. “You sneaky little… So I guess I get to kill you twice, huh Crowley?”

Hurried footsteps skidded to a stop behind Dean, and Sam dropped to his knees beside him.

Draping Dean’s arm over his shoulders, he lifted them both to some semblance of standing.

He tugged him backwards, but Dean kept his eyes on the scene unfolding in front of them.

“Oh I doubt it.” Crowley tipped his head, looking vaguely unimpressed.

“No.” Lucifer could’ve been shooting daggers out of his eyes. “No. You had your chance. You could've put me back in the Cage, but... you had to make it personal, didn't you?”

Dean pulled away from Sam, glancing between Crowley and Sam. “What is he _doing_?”

“You're right. It is personal.” Crowley stepped closer, still smiling in that vaguely smug sort of way. “You humiliated me. I... I hate you. Deeply. Truly. I'm gonna enjoy wiping that smug, self-satisfied look off your face. Personally.”

“You mean...this one?” Lucifer pointed to his face, pulling his mouth into a smile, too wide to be natural. “Come on, Crowley. You know whatever you try, you’re gonna lose.”

Crowley let an angel blade drop into his hand. “You’re right.” Glancing back at Sam and Dean, he gave a half smile and nod. “Goodbye boys.”

Without any warning, he stabbed himself.

Dean watched, motionless, as one of their only allies- sometimes friend- fell to the ground.

The rift flared again, and Cas pushed between them roughly, striding forward with an angel blade in his hand.

“Cas?” Dean started forward, stunned, a feeling of dread growing in his throat. “Cas-!”

“No, come on.” Sam wrapped an arm around him, pulling him back towards the rift. “Come on!”

“Cas!” Dean yelled, struggling to break through. “Cas! _Cas_!”

“No, no, no, no, no, no! We gotta go!”

In the back of his mind, he registered Sam’s pleading, but he could only think that this was going to end with Cas dead, _again._

“We gotta go!” Sam was yelling next to his ear.

The last thing he saw before being pulled through the rift was Cas, just a few feet away, about to face the Devil.

And they’d left him alone, with no help.

_  
  
  
  
  
_

\---

_  
  
  
  
  
  
_

Sam kept his hand wrapped firmly around Dean’s forearm, stopping him from moving, but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away. 

“C’mon Cas,” Dean murmured under his breath. “C’mon, please-"

The rift pulsed, and Cas landed back on the ground.

For a split second, they stared at each other in silence, but Dean took a step forward. “Cas? You’re- you’re okay.”

Relief spilled into his voice, and Cas nodded.

Dean opened his mouth- to say what, exactly, he didn’t know.

A choked sound emitted from Cas' throat, and the tip of an angel blade appeared in the center of his chest.

Dean started forward, a horrified shout breaking his voice.

Radiant light blinded him for a split second, but then all he could see was rage as Cas’ body fell to the ground.

“That was fun.” Lucifer gestured with the angel blade. “Seriously, guys, points for trying. Super impressed, but, uh... playtime's over.”

“Get away from them.”

Dean turned in surprise, seeing his mother, face set, and eyes furious.

“Mary, right?”

Dean gritted his teeth, eyes blurring, eyes returning again and again to the scorched wings in the sand.

“Yeah, Lucifer continued. “I've heard about you. You, uh, are certainly living up to the hype.”

He clawed a hand through the air, smiling leerily. “Look, seriously, I just wanted to say thank you for everything. I owe ya, kid.”

Mary took a step forward, and Sam’s voice broke in a panic. “Mom, Mom, _Mom_.”

He’d seen something Dean hadn’t, he realized.

It was revealed in the next moment that Mary had brass knuckles, the sigil kind.

As she turned to smile at them, the sigils glowed red. “I love you.”

Her fist slammed into Lucifer’s face.

Lucifer ran his tongue over the split lip. “Cute. Is that all you got, mama?”

No, that was _not_ all Mary Winchester had to offer, and she proved it.

Five foot, seven inches of compressed rage towards anything that dared hurt her boys, she was a sight to behold.

Blow after blow she rained down on him, until even the Devil staggered back beneath her onslaught.

Step after step backwards, Lucifer quailed, and was forced back against the flickering line of the portal.

With one last punch, he stumbled backwards, falling towards the light.

His hand dug into Mary’s arm, and she was pulled off balance, toward the same rift.

Sam lunged forward, and caught her hand, tugging her back in the instant before she could disappear.

Lucifer vanished, and so did the glowing rift.

Mary stumbled back, away from the portal, her shoulders heaving as she gasped for breath.

Dean spared a glance to make sure she was unhurt, and then his gaze was drawn back to the outline of charred wings, the wings of-

He dropped to his knees beside Cas’ body, barely heeding the disappearing footsteps as Sam and Mary ran back to the house.

In the silence, the pain was overwhelming.

“Cas?”

His hand shook as he reached out, closing those blue eyes he had loved for so long.

“Cas, please-” he dropped his hand to the front of Cas’ shirt, covering the bloody wound.

If he ignored that, it almost looked like he was sleeping.

“Bring him back,” Dean choked, directing his voice to the sky. “You were wrong, what I need is Cas. It’s always been him. Please, I’ve never asked you for anything, but I need-”

His voice gave out, and his fingers curled involuntarily into the still warm fabric of Cas’ shirt.

“Come back.”

At this point, he didn’t care who heard, if someone could grant this one wish.

“I just got you back.” Staring sightlessly at the stained trench coat, he gasped a breath. “After- after Ramiel, I thought that- that maybe you might… you know. Profound bond, and all.”

He laughed wetly, curling in on himself. “You said you loved us, and you said all of us, but you were looking at me, and I thought-” he broke off again, struggling to keep his voice even.

“I thought we were on the same page for once. But then- then you left, with Kelly, and she was more important to you than I was, than we were, and-” Every breath was a struggle. “Lucifer, and Crowley, and now-”

Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rested his face in the darkness of his crooked arm.

“I’m so sorry.”

\---

He stepped inside the house to find Sam sitting at the table, head in his hands.

He looked up immediately, letting Dean see the red-rimmed eyes. “Cas?”

Dean looked away.

It was confirmation enough.

Sam let out a shaky breath, dropping his head back onto the table.

“What happened to _her_?”

They both knew who he was talking about.

“Kelly’s gone.”

“Where’s mom?”

Sam sat up, running a hand over his face. “She’s… she’s holding the kid.”

“The-” Dean swallowed tightly. “The kid?”

“Yeah.” His brother gave a resigned sigh. “It’s a kid. It’s a- a baby. Like an actual baby.”

“That is what tends to happen when someone’s born,” Dean said flatly. “Have you found a way to... take care of it?”

The words brought seemed to take all the composure he had left, and he turned to the window with a curse.

That only made it worse, because the glass pane faced into the sandy backyard, and showed the shadowed outline of his best friend’s body.

The darkness brought on by nightfall seemed to be creeping into his very being, icy tendrils taking over.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted brokenly. “Lucifer is gone, but we’ve got his kid upstairs. And Cas-”

“Let’s get him inside,” Sam said softly. “He shouldn’t be left out there.”

Dean nodded stiffly, knuckles going white on the table edge.

Sam didn’t seem to expect a response, for he pushed himself out of the chair, and started towards the stairs

“I’m going to check on Mom and the kid.”

Dean nodded tersely.

Not looking away from the window, no matter how sick it made him, somehow felt like he could still keep watch, keep Cas safe.

As he had the thought, a rush of nausea burst through.

Cas was gone.

All the way gone, he couldn’t make a crossroads deal for an angel.

Chuck had gone off, gallivanting off to who knows where-

This was permanent.

The thought had him taking a faltering step towards the back door.

 _Please,_ he prayed desperately. _Please come back._

“Dean?” Sam’s voice carried from upstairs, and he could hear the descending footsteps in the stairwell.

He met them at the bottom, face set in stone.

“Dean.” Mary was holding a tiny bundle, but her eyes were warm, and sad. “I’m sorry.”

“I need to bring him inside.” He shook his head tightly at Sam, who looked like he wanted to say something.

Turning back to the kitchen, he didn’t wait for Sam to follow.

The back door was still ajar, and he steeled himself for what he’d see.

Keeping his eyes resolutely on his boots, he wasn’t prepared to see the body again.

The body.

His best friend, but not.

If Cas was gone, was this his body or did it belong to Jimmy Novak?

These inane questions stopped him from thinking, really.

Thinking was the worst thing he could do right now.

Kneeling slowly, he slid one arm under Cas’ shoulders, barely reacting to the cold, wet feeling of blood.

Carefully, ever so slowly, he slipped his other arm under his knees.

“Let me help,” Sam said quietly, coming into view beside him.

“Don’t.” Dean stared straight ahead. “I can do it.”

“Dean-”

“ _I’ll do it.”_ He struggled to his feet, heedless of Sam’s hand around his arm.

Each step felt like the weight of a million.

_I wanted to hold you._

Steps creaked under his feet.

_Not like this._

Sam kept his hand under Dean’s elbow, a gentle pressure that he paid no mind to.

Gently, ever so gently, he let Cas down onto the table.

A limp hand fell out, draped over the edge, and Dean turned away.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he stopped at the top, staring blankly through the open door, at the mural in what he guessed was the nursery.

Bright and cheerful, full of hope for a new life.

The mural was everything Dean wasn’t.

Turning away abruptly, he passed over the door of where Kelly Kline’s body lay.

Too many dead, he thought tiredly.

There was one door left, and he opened it with trepidation.

It looked normal, at least on the surface.

The bed was made with military-like precision, and he felt a clench in his heart.

_I taught him that._

Cas’ duffle bag was haphazardly tossed onto the end of the bed, contents spilling out in an untidy wave.

He rifled through the clothes single-mindedly.

Pulling out a clean white shirt, he paused when his fingers brushed against a soft fabric, worn and familiar.

Dean’s knees gave out, landing him on the bed with a jolt.

It was his own shirt, neatly folded and tucked to the side.

He closed his eyes, staving off a fresh wave of pain.

Leaving that, and the rest of the clothes where they lay, he headed back downstairs. 

Sam was still in the kitchen, but Mary was sitting cross legged by the door, rocking gently.

He stared at her for a minute.

She had a soft, unguarded expression on, and for a moment he thought that was what she must’ve looked like when she held him and Sam, all those years ago.

Still fresh in her mind, though.

He turned away.

Sam looked up, the lines on his face deepening as he took in what Dean was holding. “What are you doing?”

“He needs a new shirt,” Dean said softly, tensely.

Finger clenching and unclenching in the fabric of the shirt, he looked away so he wouldn’t have to see the expression of pain on Sam’s face.

“He doesn’t need to keep that shirt on.”

Sam let out a long, slow breath. “Okay.”

Dean didn’t wait for his help, already unbuttoning the top of Cas’ shirt.

With every tiny button, more of the damage was revealed.

Letting out a choked breath, Dean turned his attention to the cuffs.

They didn’t unbutton easily, due to the shaking in his fingers, and he only managed on the third try.

Moving the limbs was even harder, for one reason: stiffness was beginning to set in.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to think of something else.

Sam worked silently beside him, slipping the sleeves of the fresh shirt over each unmoving hand.

Finally, after an unendurable period of stifling silence, Dean gave Sam a pleading look. “I need a minute.”

His brother nodded grimly, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I’ll be with Mom.”

Dean gave a half-hearted shrug, eyes fixed on the swirling grain of the wood beneath his fingers.

With nothing left to say, Sam let out a quiet breath, and left the room.

Seconds passed as Dean stood there, unmoving.

 _I can’t do this,_ he thought suddenly. _I can’t say goodbye._

Stepping out the back door yet again, he stopped on the very first step.

The night sky was beautiful, almost cruelly so.

“Okay Chuck. Or God, or whatever.” His eyes burned, and he stared upward in an effort to stop tears from falling. “I need your help. See-”

His voice broke. “You left us. You _left_ us. You went off…”

Every word he spoke felt like razor blades in his throat. “You said the earth would be fine, because it had me, and Sam… but it’s _not_ . We’re not. _I’m_ not.”

Closing his eyes, the thought struck that this felt like those times he’d prayed to Cas, with no one listening on the other end.

“We lost-” his voice broke. “We lost everything.”

With renewed force in his voice, he opened his eyes, glaring at the night sky. “And now you’re gonna bring him back. You’re going to bring Cas back. After everything you’ve done, you _owe us this,_ you son of a bitch. So get your ass down here, and you _make it right. Now._ ”

With everything he had in him, he hoped.

_Please._


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure about this, Dean?”

Dean ignored the ‘ _ let’s talk about this _ ’ tone, leaning into the trunk of the Impala, and hoping his face was hidden enough that the wetness in his eyes wouldn’t show.

“I mean, it’s  _ Cas, _ ” Sam tried again. “Maybe- maybe we can bring him back, like you said…”

“We can’t.” Dean straightened, still not looking his brother in the eyes. 

“Chuck did-” Sam started. “I mean…  _ God _ did. Remember that?”

He could hear his brother’s voice getting hopeful again.

“So maybe if we prayed to him, or-” Sam ducked his head. “Maybe Chuck will listen.”

”Not a chance,” Dean said sharply. ‘I’m not praying to that dickbag.”

“Dean-”

“I already tried, okay?” Dean glanced quickly at the house, eyes drawn to where he’d stood as he begged for help. “God’s not listening.”

Lifting the axe in one hand, he slammed the trunk shut. “He doesn’t give a damn.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding towards the tree.

Sam followed silently.

  
  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  
  


Once the pyre was finished, the only thing left to do was wrap the body.

Sam went upstairs- for what reason, he didn’t know- and Dean moved woodenly towards the kitchen door.

Someone had covered Cas’ body with a sheet- probably Mary, now that he thought about it.

Step after step, he slowly made his way around to the side, fingers trailing over the back of a wooden chair.

The sheet peaked by the end, and he reached out to lift it

Gently, he slid the sheet away from Cas’ face.

The slight furrows between his brows were still there, even in this sick, unnatural stillness, and the blue eyes were closed.

The white shirt he’d put on him was as pristine as ever, and he was grateful that he didn’t have to see the bloody hole.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew, on a logical level, that there could be no answer.

Still, he waited with baited breath for the voice he knew he wouldn’t hear again.

“You’ve always been there,” he said softly. “Always. Even when things went bad, and we made bad choices, and- and got so mad at each other, you’ve always been there. And I haven’t been good to you, not like you deserve. You deserve so much.”

Taking a long, heavy breath, he lowered himself into a chair, staring at the blank wood of the table, rather than at his best friend.

“And I- I never deserved you.” Eyes blurring, he reached out, tangling his fingers in the sleeve of the trench coat. “And I’m so sorry. I hurt you, and I didn’t trust you, and-”

He broke off, voice shaking.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. “I need you. I always need you. I always have. You’re- you’re the most important person in my life, along with Sam. But you’re different. I don’t love you like a brother.”

Letting out a shaky laugh, he shook his head. “I don’t think I could if I tried. And you should’ve been able to hear me say it, not- not with you laying here, and… too little, too late I guess. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Standing abruptly, he crossed to the window, pulling down the curtain rod.

Ripping the fabric into strips, he moved to the lower half of the table,quickly wrapping the cloth around Cas’ legs.

Though his movements were hurried, his hands were gentle.

He couldn’t fathom being anything else at this moment.

Once all but the head and shoulders were properly bundled, he took a moment to stare, to take in every wrinkle at the corners of his eyes, between his brows, and the slight indent right beside his mouth.

Vision blurring, he stooped to press his lips to Cas’ forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can’t bring you back. I wish I could. But I’ll be better. I’ll even try to help Jack. He’s- he’s just a kid. We can try and help him be good. I mean, he indirectly stopped Lucifer, so… I’ll try.”

He closed his eyes.

_ I can’t do this. _

_ If I burn him, he won’t come back. _

“Dean?”

Sam’s voice came from right outside the door.

Dean steeled himself, covering Cas’ head, and finishing the ties.

“Yeah?”

The door cracked open, and Sam looked through, noticeably avoiding looking at the table. “We’re ready,” he said softly. “Need help carrying him?”

Shaking his head tightly, Dean glanced at the open door. “Where’s mom and the kid?”

“I don’t know,” Sam glanced back, shaking his head. “She stepped outside.”

“Go figure it out.” Dean sniffed lightly. “She doesn’t need to be alone with him.”

Sam gave him a worried once-over. “Are you okay?”

Dean didn’t answer, turning back to the table.

He heard Sam sigh behind him, but he ignored it in favor of sliding his arm gently beneath Cas’ shoulders and knees, and lifting him up.

When he turned around, his brother was gone.

Stepping carefully through the door, he maneuvered his load with a carefulness born of long years carrying bodies.

This one was different, though, and it felt like the whole world knew it.

Outside, the sun didn’t shine.

Clouds covered the sky, and the birds didn’t sing.

Even the wind on the lake was still, not a fish breaking the surface.

He almost wanted the sun to dim again, to leech heat out of living things, and for plants to fade, because that’s what it felt like.

How could the whole world not stop, even for a moment, when his own was shattered so thoroughly?

He kept moving, and the world kept turning.

With utmost care, he lowered the shroud onto the pyre.

Taking several steps back, he lowered his eyes to watch the pale sand.

“Dean.” Sam seemed to pick up on his distress, giving a faint, understanding nod. “I can do it?”

He nodded heavily.

The gasoline turned the wood dark, a heavy scent that he correlated with death.

As the flames flickered and grew, so did the twisting pain in his heart.

_ I can’t do this. _

Mary stepped up beside him, her presence a welcome one.

“Dean?” She tried.

Even though he hadn’t noticed her approaching, he was too dazed to flinch.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Several seconds passed before he could muster up the will to turn his head, meeting her eyes.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping down to the baby in her arms.

_ He’s so tiny. _

The baby- Jack- was asleep.

Dark lashes rested against the paleness of infant skin, and his hair was the exact shade his mother’s had been.

“Are you okay?” Mary rested a hand on his forearm, eyes wide with worry.

Eyes still on Jack, he gave a minute shake of his head.

Before she could say anything else, he reached out a finger, resting it on the side of Jack’s face.

The touch roused him from sleep, and Dean watched, frozen, as tiny eyelids fluttered open, and the eyes were revealed.

Blue, the same piercing shade of Castiel’s.

The realization hit him like a boot to the gut, and he turned away.

Heat met his face, and his eyes, from two different sources.

“Dean,” Mary said again. “Do you… want to hold him?”

His eyes rested briefly on the flaming logs, and the bundle within.

_ Cas believed this child was good. _

“No,” he said softly, meeting Mary’s gaze. “I can’t.”

She didn’t seem surprised, turning back to the house.

He watched as she left, a strange swaying bounce in her step.

Sam’s voice broke into his stupor. “D’you wanna say something?”

Dean let out a broken laugh. “What am I supposed to say? Sorry we got you dead, have a piece of friggin pie?”

Sam winced. “No, I just thought…”

“What?” Dean darted a pained glance his way. “Thought what?”

“That you’d- I don’t know. That you’d want to say something.”

“There’s no point. Not like he can hear us.”

_ There’s so much I want to say. _

“Okay,” Sam let out a soft breath. “I’m going to sit with Mom.”

Giving a slight hum of acknowledgement, Dean stared into the brightest point of the flames until his eyes watered, feeling like they were burning.

  
  
  
  
  


\---

  
  
  
  
  


Jack was crying.

Screaming, really.

It was late enough that it could be called morning, and Dean was wide awake.

They'd made it back to the bunker without mishap, seeing as Jack had been quiet the whole way, but now he was loud enough that even with the baby in the kitchen, and Dean in his own room, the wails were deafening.

Maybe it was amplified by whatever powers the nephilim had, but there was no way he'd be able to sleep through this.

Rolling over frustratedly, Dean pulled a pillow and his blankets over his head.

Uselessly, because it did absolutely nothing.

Giving up, he stared at the wall for a moment before pushing himself out of the warm cocoon of his bed, storming down the hall.

All the ire built up disappeared as he entered the kitchen.

Sam looked like he was about to cry, rocking the kid gently, and Mary was on the phone, voice loud to be heard over the screams.

"What the hell's going on?" With the lack of sleep, Dean’s voice was ragged, clearly showcasing how close he was to falling apart.

Turning quickly, Sam's eyes widened, relief clear in his eyes. "He won't stop, and I don't know what to do for a crying baby! What do I do with a kid?"

Dean stared at him silently for a moment, blinking slowly. "Just… does he need to be changed?"

Sam looked even more drained. "I don't… think so?

It sounded like a question, and Dean realized that Sam had never been the one to care for a kid.

"Give him here," he said gruffly.

Mary sighed, voice tense. “He’s not going to stop for you, Dean. I’m the only one of us with any experience with kids, and he wouldn’t stop for me.”

Dean ignored her, holding his arms out.

Sam gave him a cautious look, but handed the baby over anyway.

Jack was smaller than his forearm, Dean realized, and weighed less.

As soon as the infant was settled in Dean’s arms, the ear splitting cries dropped to low whimpers.

In the ensuing quiet, Sam and Mary stared at him in disbelief, and Dean didn’t miss that fact that Mary looked suitably chastened.

_ She doesn’t know that I had to take care of Sam for years. _

He had more experience than his own mother did.

The blue eyes were wide, and no less gut punching then they had been the first time he saw Cas’ eyes staring back at him from a newborn.

“What’s the fuss about?” Dean kept his voice low. “You’re a loud one, kid.”

“We tried feeding him,” Sam said, voice barely above a whisper as if afraid of setting the baby off again.

“With what?” 

Sam cringed slightly, pointing to the table where a disarray of cups and syringes lay scattered around a jug of milk. “That.”

“Jesus, Sam.” Dean stepped up to the table, swapping Jack to his left arm with ease born of years of practice, picking up one of the syringes. “You don’t feed a kid with a spoon. Not newborns, anyway.”

Waving a hand helplessly, Sam sank into one of the chairs. “What are we supposed to do, then?”

“Go to the store, buy some formula and bottles. I’ll try to keep him happy.”

Mary stepped forward, wrapping a hand around Dean’s arm. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yep,” he answered brusquely. “I’ve got plenty of experience taking care of a kid.”

He saw Sam’s eyes light up in understanding.

“Get going,” he said quietly. “I can handle the kid for an hour.”

Sam looked reluctant, but did as he was told, scooping his jacket off the back of the chair, and moving to the door.

Dean glanced up at Mary. "You too. Sam probably doesn't have any idea what to get."

She smiled wryly. "He gets that from his father. John was hopeless with babies. You sure you can hold down the fort?"

His gaze fell to the baby's face. "I've taken care of kids before, mom. I pretty much raised Sam, so yes I'm sure I can handle a baby for an hour."

Resignation flashed across her face, and she straightened up. "Okay. We'll be back soon."

He didn't look up as they left.

Staring down at Jack, he felt the first stirring of warmth. "He loved you. I don't know why, but I'm gonna- gonna take care of you."

Jack cooed.


End file.
